


Albus and Scorpius Do the Thing and Get Wrecked

by unkissed



Series: Coevolution [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Sexual Humor, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: I’ve been here before.  But really, I haven’t.  That sense of déjà vu hits me, but I know with absolute certainty that I have not experienced this.  It only feels like I’ve done this before because I have dreamt up this exact scenario so many times, I know it by heart.  I have been playing it over and over again in my head since my sexual awakening, each subsequent time refining the details and adding nuances as I discovered things about Scorpius Malfoy over time.





	Albus and Scorpius Do the Thing and Get Wrecked

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely write smut for these boys. I had to remedy that.
> 
> As always, gratitude and love and devilish smirk emojis go out to my bestie, Colorfulstabwound.
> 
> If you're coming to this story having not read the others in the Coevolution series, it might be more satisfying if you read the others first, or at least go back and read them afterwards.
> 
> Feedback is gold.
> 
> Tagged as "Underage" because Albus and Scorpius are 16, though the legal age of consent in the UK is 16.

I’ve been here before. But really, I haven’t. That sense of _déjà vu_ hits me, but I know with absolute certainty that I have not experienced this. It only _feels_ like I’ve done this before because I have dreamt up this exact scenario so many times, I know it by heart. I have been playing it over and over again in my head since my sexual awakening, each subsequent time refining the details and adding nuances as I discovered things about Scorpius Malfoy over time.

 

Details and nuances like the subtle, briny taste of his skin. The careful pressure of his investigative fingertips against my body. The softness of his roving mouth. The span and heft of his cock. These details and nuances I have only recently come to know since Scorpius became my boyfriend scantly five months ago. And a few of those details and nuances have only just been uncovered within the past few days, as we’ve become more adventurous in our sexual exploration.

 

Right now, we are in the shower… _Oh my gods_ , we are in the fucking _shower_. And because shower sex ranks among the all-time top three fantasies in my wank bank, I’m trying so hard not to prematurely blow my load just from the staggering fact that Scorpius is actually in the shower _with_ me – not in my mind, but flush against my body.

 

You see, I have this tendency to get myself off while I’m presumably getting clean. It’s just a matter of the circumstances of dormitory living. The private shower stalls of the Slytherin boys’ bathrooms are one of the few places one can get any sort of privacy for ‘self care’ around here. Well, one of the few _comfortable_ places of privacy at least. Conversely, Scorpius and I have familiarized ourselves with all the _uncomfortable_ hiding places in which to desperately get each other off.

 

Currently, we have the luxury of a dormitory all to ourselves for a whole week while everyone else is home for Christmas, and we are reveling in our comfortable privacy. Scorpius and I are not going to squander this opportunity. In fact, we are going to exploit it. There is no need for silencing spells or for neckties hung on doorknobs. Hell, there’s no need for clothes. And so we’re luxuriating in the shower beneath the gentle spray.

 

I have spent more of my young adult life jerking off to guilt-laden fantasies of my best mate than I have spent jerking off my best mate (turned-boyfriend), such that it still feels a little weird when my dreams come true. I had grown so accustomed to that guilt, that some of it still lingers as ghosts of my formerly one-sided infatuation. Perhaps it is that guilt that makes me hesitate and has me doubting that Scorpius wants me the way I want him.

 

But my uncertainty is short-lived. Without even knowing that I need reassurance, he wordlessly assures me that he wants me when he envelops my downturned lips in a kiss. And _Merlin be_ _damned,_ he’s a brilliant kisser. He tastes of starlight mints and of clear, highland streams, and I just want to drink him down until I’m drowning.

 

“This is going to be _so good_ ,” he rasps, low and slow and wet against my mouth between kisses, his tone somehow seductive and nervous at the same time.

 

I have a sudden realization at the most inopportune moment. It is the realization that maybe I’m not ready for anal sex, even though it was my suggestion in the first place to give it a go after a thorough cleansing – which is why we’re in the shower.

 

I hesitate. _Maybe we’re going too fast_ , advises the voice at the back of my mind, at odds with a primal, more insistent voice that seems to be screaming from my lap.

 

If one looks at the progression of my still very new relationship with Scorpius, it is easy to side with the more reasonable voice.

 

Until four months ago, neither Scorpius nor I had ever been a romantic relationship with anybody before (if one doesn’t count that time Lysander Scamander kissed me, and really, no one _does_.) Shortly after decreeing our relationship status, quite publicly so, our relatively chaste kisses gave way to full-on snogging. And I mean the _real_ sort of kissing, with tongue and everything. Soon, neither of us could deny our desire for one another – no longer could I hide it, for the tent in my trousers had spoken more loudly than words (that primal voice I was referring to before). Three months ago, Scorpius acknowledged that desire when he stroked me through my trousers for the first time. And if that hadn’t been mind-blowing enough, two months ago, he took things a step further and put his hand inside the front of my pants. A mere month and a half ago, he gifted me with a blow job on my sixteenth birthday – best birthday present _ever_. So, yeah… things are progressing rather quickly.

 

Our sex life has gone from non-existent to blow-jobs-in-broom-cupboards in the span of one school semester, and I worry that we are rushing through things. But who can blame us? We’re impatient and horny all the fucking time. Of course, I am loving every hot, wet, sticky second of mutual exploration. But all this pleasure must come at a price, right? Every first-time experience we check off our list, we can never revisit. We only get one first time, and I don’t want to screw it up.

 

 

Scorpius senses my hesitation in the tenseness of my kiss. He pulls back just enough to allow our eyes to meet and gently holds my face in his hands. “Hey,” he whispers, “You don’t have to be scared. It’s all new to me too, remember?”

 

I love how he manages to read my thoughts, just from my body language. It is a testament to the closeness of our friendship. I guess that’s one good thing about being best mates before becoming boyfriends.

 

I smile softly, perhaps a bit bashfully. “Yeah. I’m just… anxious and nervous and stuff,” I admit, “I want it to be perfect, you know?”

 

“I know,” he agrees with a small nod and a shy grin of his own. “I can only imagine how you feel. You’ve wanted this for a long, _long_ time.”

 

 _Gods,_ why remind me of this fact? Of the years I spent pining after him? Of the years he pretended not to notice I was pining after him? I cast my eyes to the floor and blush hard – not in a sweet and coy way, but with shame and guilt weighing down on me heavily. I mean, yeah, I’ve been lusting after him for much longer than he’s been lusting over me, and that fact makes me feel rather like a pervert.

 

He lifts my chin with a finger. “Albie, it’s okay,” he reassures me, “It doesn’t mean I want it less than you do.”

 

I worry my bottom lip, blinking the water out of my lashes to avoid Scorpius’ gaze, not that I’m even capable of looking Scorpius straight in the eyes at the moment. “I’m sorry, Scor. I’m just not sure about this anymore.”

 

A long breath escapes him slowly. “It’s okay.”

 

He folds me up in an embrace and I know everything is right between us.

 

“You waited years for me,” he says, “We can wait for this. I can wait for you as long as you need me to.” He brushes aside my wet hair and kisses my forehead. “I love you, Albie. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

I sigh with relief. “We probably aren’t ready for sex anyhow,” I mumble, “Just because the opportunity presents itself, it doesn’t mean we have to take it. Right?”

 

“Right,” he agrees with me. “There will be other opportunities, I’m sure.”

 

I seriously love this boy’s optimism. I’m not too disappointed and I know Scorpius isn’t either.

 

“We can do other stuff,” I suggest, quirking an impish little grin, “Stuff we haven’t tried before.”

 

“Oh? Such as?” Scorpius asks, intrigued.

 

I reach for a bar of soap and slip it into his hand with a giggle. “Stuff we can only really do in the shower.”

 

Scorpius chuckles as he lathers up his hands. “Albus Potter, are you suggesting we actually get _clean_ in the shower?”

 

I reply, still giggling, “Shudder to think! Using the shower for what it was intended!”

 

But being who we are, taking a shower is not really about getting clean, regardless of the abundance of soap. After all, we are naked, sexually curious, and quite horny.

 

With the bar of soap in one hand and an inordinate amount of suds in the other, he gets down to business, gently working the thick lather into my skin. His slippery hands make smooth circles around my shoulders, then over my chest, and then down to my abdomen, somehow ignoring my erection waving right next to his. _Sigh…_ I guess we really _are_ just getting clean.

 

But what had begun innocently as Scorpius giving me a proper scrub down, suddenly evolves into something else entirely when his movements become slow and exploratory, and I’m hardly going to object. He slides his hands around my waist, snaking around to my lower back, then down further, hesitating just before the swell of my bottom.

 

I arch slightly, bringing myself into closer alignment with him, which subsequently allows my erection to slide against his thigh. We both glance down.

 

“Mmm, you’re _hard_ , Albie,” Scorpius drawls, sounding quite pleased with this finding.

 

“Am I?” I feign ignorance, all the while stroking my obvious hardness with a slow rhythm meant to showcase said erection.

 

I divest him of the bar of soap and use it to slick my hand, then subsequently my cock. My eyes flutter closed as pleasure takes me. With a bit of dramatic flair meant to entice, I tilt my head back and moan quietly. I could get lost in the smooth sensation, but there is more heaven for the taking right in front of me.

 

I don’t have to tell Scorpius what I want, even though we’ve never done anything quite like this before. He just seems to innately know the corresponding reaction to every one of my actions as if his body was designed to give my body, and my body alone, the most perfect pleasure.

 

Scorpius takes me by the hip and presses himself against me firmly, allowing my slippery cock to slide against his body, skirting his own undeniable erection. He winds his hips, letting his cock glide over my wet skin. Because I’m so soapy, his dick gets coated with creamy foam in the process. I had thought that dry-fucking in a closet with our pants pushed down was fun, but _this_ is enjoyable on an entirely new level. Everything really is better when wet.

 

Scorpius lets his hand wander down to my arse and cups a handful, almost possessively, maybe reassuring himself that I’m his. That possessiveness makes my heart swell and my cock twitch. I moan softly, offering my wordless consent. _Damn fucking right, I’m yours, Scorpius._

He takes the cue and his other hand finds the opposite cheek. He slowly grinds his hips against me. I feel the shape of his thick erection sliding into the juncture between my groin and my thigh, and I want him impossibly closer – I want him so close that he fits inside me. And maybe, just _maybe_ , I was too quick to dismiss the idea.

 

Everything is congruously working together to make me naturally receptive, from the warmth of the water that seems to precisely match my body temperature, to the excess of soap that Scorpius has slathered onto my skin, to the languid way he massages my arse cheeks to loosen me up.

 

Warm water cascades down my back, rinsing a thick lather of foam from my skin. Along the furrow of my spine, soapy water is channeled into the cleft of my bottom, inadvertently providing a steady stream of lubrication.

 

“Touch me,” I whisper breathily at the side of his ear. I fold my arms behind his neck, keeping him close.

 

He knows exactly where I want him to touch without having to say it. From the renewed slickness of his fingers, I know he’s made them soapy again with the bar I had long abandoned on the tile ledge. I wantonly groan my approval as a single digit maps the long furrow of my arse, slowly tracing the contour, delving deeper into the cleft with each subsequent survey. I gasp quietly when his fingertip skims the most sensitive part of me and his longitudinal gestures give way to more precise circular motions.

 

_Oh, fuck…._

 

I release a long, shuddering exhalation, signaling my pleasure while also giving Scorpius further consent. He applies gentle pressure, setting my nerves alight, sending hot tendrils of pleasure radiating from the delicate ring of muscle. It is a sensation unlike any I have ever felt, even more blissful than the experimental self-stimulation I’ve engaged in before.

 

When he finally breaches me, I am already so pliant and receptive that his slender finger easily slides in to the first knuckle with little resistance. He hesitates, probably to give me time to adjust to this novel sensation. Or maybe _he_ just has to stop and take in this moment.

 

I heave a shuddering breath and then whisper a desperate command. “Don’t stop.”

Deeper, and deeper, and _deeper_ still, he reaches depths that even I have never dared to go. And with each depth he conquers, I feel pleasure that I had never known was even possible – pleasure that I could have never even dreamed of while wanking off to this exact scenario.

 

Because I’m greedy and so fucking in love with him, I whisper an impossible plea. “More… Fill me…”

He withdraws slowly, carefully, and even _this_ feels delightful. I moan, and it sounds like a disappointed whine. But he returns with a second finger, and the way he stretches me burns so fucking sweetly. He is so perfectly in sync with me that his response is exactly the same as mine.

 

“ _Oh my gods…,_ ” we moan simultaneously. My pleasure is Scorpius’ pleasure.

 

We giggle breathily at that brain-twin moment.

 

He stills, deep inside me, and I’m astonished how much _more_ I want. Is it even possible?

 

“You okay?” he asks.

 

“Brilliant,” I reply, and then nervously begin to suggest, “You can, erm… you know.” I’m anxious and primed to get off, but it’s all so new that I don’t yet know how to ask him for what I want. Shouldn’t he just _know_? He always seems to know…

 

“Stop?” he asks, sounding concerned. And as he very slowly starts to pull out, I draw pleasure from the movement inside me.

 

I’m very quick to correct him before he’s fully withdrawn. “No, don’t stop,” I gasp with need. I’m blushing so hard that my ears feel hot. “Do the, erm… thing.” I’m flustered and desperate and losing my grasp of human speech.

 

Scorpius chuckles softly, amusedly. “Oh, you mean _this_.” With his free hand, he reaches down for my cock that’s wedged between us and begins to stroke it slowly, twisting at the top of each upward slide, the way he knows I like it. He’s so fucking good to me.

 

“Erm, that’s nice too, but not what I meant,” I admit, my voice tense and clipped short by my rapidly mounting need. “But, please don’t stop.”

 

“Is _this_ what you want?” Scorpius asks, and from the seductive way he draws out his syllables, I gather that he knows more than he’s letting on.

 

His fingers slowly press inside me and then withdraw just barely before pushing in again. He somehow manages to gently work my cock at the same time, albeit distractedly. But for all his inexperience and all of his experimental movements, he is working me into an overwhelming frenzy of conflicting sensations.

 

On one side, Scorpius has me wound up tightly. A firm knot coils in my gut and my balls draw up close as he has me primed for orgasm. On the other side, I’m melting and unfurling at his touch, stretching and becoming blissfully open, growing weak in the knees and on the verge of collapsing into his arms.

 

And it’s all so _fucking_ good.

 

“Oh fuck… Oh _fuck… OH FUCK…_ ,” I groan, the tone and timbre of my voice rising with the sensations he pulls from me.

 

Sensations evolving from the ecstasy of harboring Scorpius deliciously deep inside me, to the desperation of wanting Scorpius impossibly deeper, to a sort of euphoric panic – panic at the precise moment that he gently curls his fingers and triggers something within me that I thought was of myth and legend. “Oh my fucking gods, Scorpius…,” is my ragged, high-pitched refrain – the sound of a boy who is about to lose it entirely.

 

“Oh _shit_ ,” Scorpius muses in response to my reaction, “It exists.” He knows me so well and knows my secret desires so perfectly that he understands what he has done – what he has stumbled upon without trying very hard.

 

He hooks his fingers again, more firmly this time and a strangled sound somehow escapes my mouth between panting breaths. “Gods yes, it exists. _Right there_.”

 

Judging from his stunned, albeit pleased reaction, Scorpius is just as shocked as I am to have found my prostate on the first try.

 

Less shocking is the result of that glorious discovery.

 

With his fingers nestled purposefully, deeply inside me, and with the rhythmic slide of his palm along my soap-slicked cock, I come hard with his name on my tongue. I come harder than I ever knew a person could come, splattering astonishing volumes of thick seed all over both Scorpius’ abdomen and mine. Each spasm threatens to shake my knees down to the tile below, each full-body shudder is accompanied with an unrestrained cry that reverberates against the granite walls. _Oh shit… oh SHIT… OH SHIT…_ Each spurt that appears to be the last is unexpectedly followed with another that startles us both.

 

We can’t help but laugh breathlessly and marvel at the mess I’ve made. When he withdraws carefully, I nearly collapse, but he’s quick to catch me in his arms. We kiss lazily and everything is fuzzy and warm. The water rains gently down my back as the jackrabbit thump of my heart slows to a gentle lope.

 

“I love you,” I mumble against Scorpius’ mouth.

 

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I made you come,” Scorpius teases. I know he’s teasing because he’s still kissing me.

 

“You always make me come,” I remind him. “But I love you even if you don’t.” I peck him on the lips and clarify, “Even if you don’t make me come, I mean.” Really, it could go both ways. I loved him even when he didn’t love me.

 

“Yeah, but I’ve never made you come like _that_ ,” Scorpius points out. He holds me at arms length to do an assessment, his hands lazily following his eyes as they rake me up and down slowly with a sort of shrewdness and desire that’s almost dirty (and I love it). “My gods, Albie. You are _wrecked_ , man.”

 

I chuckle quietly and smile bashfully, my eyes hooded and drowsy. “I’m pathetic, I know.” I blush impossibly harder – I’m already rather red in the face after our exertions.

 

Scorpius shakes his head and folds me back into his arms. “No, you’re not. You’re fucking beautiful when you’re wrecked,” he muses as he nuzzles his face against me, “Out of breath. Covered in your own spunk. Hair all messed up. Full body blush. It’s so fucking hot.”

 

“You’re full of shit,” I joke, though still heavily skeptical. “I really don’t see how I can possibly be attractive in my state.”

 

Scorpius grows quiet and serious. He gently takes my face in his hands and he admits, “I mean, it Albie. You’re beautiful. Especially after I’ve made you come. But I’ve never seen you quite like this before – so vulnerable and raw. And it kind of scares me… knowing that I can do this to you… knowing that I have this much power.”

 

I stare at him now, my expression becoming grave and confused as a quiet sort of fear roils slowly like smoke in his silver-blue eyes.

 

He continues, nearly whispering now, “I don’t know what to do with all that, you know? I don’t ever want to hurt you. But if I could wreck you in the best way, I could also potentially wreck you in the worst way.”

 

Worry carves lines into the furrow of his brow. I feel compelled to smooth the lines out with a kiss, and so I do. “I trust you. I’ve always trusted you. I know you won’t ever hurt me.” And then I’m the one comforting him with my arms. “It’s okay to be scared, though. It means you love me.”

 

“I do, Albie. So much,” he reassures me.

 

We stand in the shower just like this, in an embrace that’s somehow both easy and impossible, and time seems to slow down to a languid creep just for us. But the water wrinkles our fingertips and reminds us where we are – suggests to us where we might rather be.

 

 

It is curled up in front of the fireplace in the common room, naked under green tartan blankets, where we find ourselves, once again, breathing life into a fantasy I had played out so many times in my head.

 

I kiss a hot, wet line along the gentle thrum of Scorpius’ jugular vein that reveals itself like a beautiful weakness in the shadows cast by the fire. He tilts his head slightly, offering up more skin for me to explore, like he’s a virgin sacrifice to the hungry gods. And I feel unworthy as a mere mortal to partake of him. He is perfection and light. He is pale gold skin glowing in the firelight. He is an angel – his platinum hair illuminated like a halo around his pretty head.

 

I whisper my love with wordless adoration, reverently tracing the elegant line of his clavicle with my parted lips. I insinuate my desire with the gentle scrape of my teeth against the curve of his shoulder, with the covetous caress of my fingers over the slope of his bottom.

 

“I believe it’s _my_ turn to get wrecked, don’t you think?” Scorpius drawls, sensual in his subtle entitlement – ever the privileged Malfoy.

 

And as my head disappears beneath the wool blanket, I know exactly what to do to him. I know exactly how to make him thoroughly, _utterly_ wrecked.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are lovely, but feedback (including constructive criticism) is always welcome and greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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